Closed Many-Headed Hydra - I

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Much as Damon hated sitting still when he could have been working out, he figured the analyst wouldn’t approve of him getting in a few pull-ups on the ride back. To keep busy, he pulled a grip strength trainer out of his back pocket- one of the few items he kept on his person at all times, even in the field -and began squeezing it. While having an iron grip was hardly as crucial tool for superheroics as a strong right hook, there were undoubtedly times it would come in handy, and the Dragon intended to be prepared for every situation.

It was hard to tell whether McCormack’s question was rhetorical- a pop quiz -or if he was seriously asking them to identify the people they’d stopped. In either case, Damon figured it was best to take the question seriously. He fell silent for his moment, replaying the events of the brief confrontation in his mind’s eye. Ever since his powers had manifested, he’d found his memory surprisingly sharp, as if his recollections were no longer degrading, the same way his physical condition remained at its peak even when he didn’t maintain it actively.

“Well,” Damon began, “one of the two I took down had a symbol on his mask. A spade, like on a playing card, but orange. And he was wearing a matching tie. I busted up the mask, though, and didn’t get a great look at the other guy from the front, so I don’t know if any of them had matching symbols or anything like that.”

Briefly pausing to allow the other heroes to weigh in, Damon waited a moment before continuing.

“I guess this could be a ‘pop crime’ thing- you know, bad guys using themes and gimmicks like we have, even if they don’t have powers. My team leader back in Chicago, Manowar, he’s got this whole ongoing feud thing with a gang called the Harbormen. Sort of a nautical theme, they’ve all got costumes and tech based on underwater animals. There’s a Captain Kraken, the Stingray, the low-level gang members are all called Barnacles... you get the idea.”

The naming convention was fairly ironic, considering the Harbormen operated exclusively in the Great Lakes region, where virtually none of those water-dwelling creatures actually dwelled. But then again, neither did the actual Portuguese man o’ war, the species of jellyfish that Damon’s erstwhile ally was named after.

“These guys might have been going for a playing card theme, or something? Though, it was a pretty weak effort, if so.”
 


'Wonder how much MIRA had to pay them to buy into that gimmick' He thought when Dragon mentioned The Harbormen. He long since suspected/knew that MIRA kept certain, fairly harmless crooks, on a tight leash for the sake of maintaining the myth. He half expected this to be one of those situations till he saw their masks. The last time he had run into them was an attempted ATM robbery during one of his patrols. He could still remember the looks on their faces when they saw all their bullets suspended in the air around him. He smirked a bit and pulled a snack out of a bag he had left on the train.

"They're probably members of the Royal Flush Gang. Morricone's hired them before and how easy they were to handle lines up. I doubt Morricone would authorize a robbery mid-day though, 10 bucks says they're just as stupid as they look." Gilgamesh muttered between bites of the METRX meal replacement bar; crispy apple pie flavored of course. Using his field while maintaining his perfect ratio of muscle to body fat required eating an fairly high calorie diet. His nutritionist recommended he eat after every field operation to prevent his body from cannibalizing his muscles. As he took a bite he shot a quick glance over at Dragon. The two were alike in the way they constantly worked at their heroics but, he was sure their motives differed.

Before McCormack could get another word in he moved on. "Great work with the press you two. I was half expecting this outing to drop my ratings but, with how well you handled yourselves we might start trending."

 


McCormack was silent for a moment as he opened his laptop; his brow furrowed, and he looked from his screen to Gilgamesh, letting him speak and say his usual Cloak lines before piping up again. It was interesting to see them all in action, up close. Felt surreal. It was often ill-advised to meet your heroes, but MIRA had thankfully put in the work to slowly revert that notion. Gilgamesh seemed egotistical, but he meant well-- and he saved lives.

"Royal Flush Gang usually doesn't look as kitted as that," He muttered. "And according to the contact we have in the NYPD, they're pulling some serious hardware from the vault. Looks like they had signal scramblers and a high-power thermite drill; looks like some secondhand military tech." He shrugged. "Might be worth it to comb some contacts, see what Morricone might be doing in all of this. If they're connected, that is. Could be an isolated incident, but..." He sighed, still looking at his screen. He had a habit of talking while working; most analysts did. "... this sort of money doesn't just pop into existence. Wonder what they might be doing with the money, though..."

The on-board systems for the Amway's bullet-track chimed, and the gentle turn of the stomach indicated that the cabin was decelerating towards their stop. Owen shut his laptop, gave a nod to the group, and moved towards the door, putting his hand upon one of the railings to steady himself for the stop. "Good work. I'll keep you all updated should there be an upcoming assignment; for now, though, you're free to do as you'd like. Enjoy the city, Agent Dragon," He stated.

"And-- should any of you find anything, don't hesitate to let me know." He held out a card for anyone to take.

SPECIAL AGENT OWEN MCCORMACK
METAHUMAN INCIDENT RESPONSE AGENCY
978-224-2098
OMCORMACK@MIRA.GOV


 
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